Diego Garcia: Fishing the Most Inaccessible Tropical Fly-Fishing Spot in the World

Most of us have looked at a globe or Atlas just to imagine those places on this blue earth that most fly fishers will never see. Our fingers trace us toward some isolated beach on the coast of Africa or a jungle stream in the heart of South America. One place you might dream about is in the Indian Ocean seven degrees south of the equator; a rocky atoll at the end of the Chagos Ridge named Diego Garcia. It is likely the most inaccessible tropical fly-fishing location anywhere in the world.

As with most coral reef atolls, it supports a diverse environment that has abundant tropical fish and beautiful natural scenery. While there are innumerable angling opportunities, few people ever experience it because access is tightly controlled. Diego Garcia is part of the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT), the governance over the region. BIOT is a marine protected area (MPA) and access to the region is limited to innocent passage for vessels and scientific research. Diego Garcia itself is the largest island and serves as a military base for U.S. ships and aircraft. It’s certainly not a tourist destination. The only way to enter the territory is to have a job on the island. All flights to and from are military, so you must have orders, country clearance, and travel approval to board any aircraft bound for the island. Only military vessels may enter the lagoon. Private vessels that attempt to approach the island may be impounded and the owners levied with stiff fines.

Island History

The island has a brief human history. While it was discovered long before it was occupied in the late 1700s, it was not viewed with significant interest until coal-powered vessels made it economically feasible to transport coconut oil. Coconut oil competed with whale oil as a fuel source before petroleum.

The first settlers were French who ran a coconut plantation using slaves for the labor force. The island transferred to British control in 1814 after the Napoleonic Wars. When slavery ended, the plantation workers stayed on. The island played a role in both world wars before it became a Cold War base in the late 1960s. The U.S. and the UK made an agreement that the island would serve as a military sea and air base. When the UK granted The Republic of Mauritius independence in the mid-1960s, what would become BIOT was purchased from the new nation. That purchase has been declared invalid by the International Civil Court, but neither the UK nor U.S. agrees with that finding. The plantation workers who lived on the island at the time were relocated, unwillingly, to both Mauritius and Republic of Seychelles. A civil case in the UK awarded reparations to these displaced people and their descendants.

Despite the legal issues, the base remains a strategic location for a number of military missions. Only a few thousand people are on the island at any given time, most of whom are support contractors for the various military missions. Very few of them are fly fishers, though some are conventional fishermen who keep and eat what they catch. The only fish not allowed for take are sharks. Invertebrates are also off-limits, including the huge coconut crabs and lobsters.

You likely didn’t start reading this article to learn the strategic importance or political drama surrounding a place with coral and sand flats. There are plenty of those, but the entire island is not accessible for fishing. The island is about 18 miles long and shaped like a foot with the heel to the south and the toes marking the lagoon entrance. The lagoon is nearly five miles across but the ribbon of land around the perimeter is less than a mile wide at most; in some places it is only a couple hundred yards from surf to lagoon. The base occupies the northwest side of the island. The north half of the lagoon and its west side flats are the only fishing areas inside the atoll. Three miles of some great flats that hold big bonefish are off-limits to allow for recreational swimming. About 21 miles of surfside on the west coast are open to fishing but limited to wading no more than knee deep. The island is not managed as a fishery, but as a military base that allows recreational fishing.

Swimming is only allowed near the living area, and both diving and surfing are prohibited. Safety is a primary concern, as there are no planes to evacuate anyone and only a small medical clinic. Despite all this, there is some great fishing.

I found myself on the island for the first time when my destroyer pulled in overnight to refuel back in 1990. I only left the ship to go to the gun range, but distinctly remember a very large hammerhead looming in the security lights along the ship’s beam. Next I visited in 2017 as part of a security team; I managed to fish a couple hours and caught a goatfish. In 2020 as the world sorted out the COVID-19 response, I transferred to the island to assume command of the ship squadron there. I was determined to catch more than a goatfish.

Merchant Mariner Ben Larabee, who has years of experience on the island, is the de facto head guide for the mythical Undisclosed Location Fishing Lodge. He was key to helping me sort out the complexities of fishing here, as he does for anyone who wants to get out and see what the flats offer. He learned the flats from those who walked these flats before him. On our very first day fishing together, I caught a number of bonefish and a huge barracuda. I knew I was in for quite a tour. I was there for my military duties, but those duties were to be ready to deploy. I had weekends, holidays, and other occasions to get out and fish.

---

The outside flats are very productive and host a variety of species. Large schools of bonefish ride the surge, gliding over the reef. I found permit and triggerfish waving their tails in the smooth rolling waves, and they were often mixed with parrotfish and unicornfish. Snappers, groupers, wrasses, and several types of trevally lie in the cuts waiting to grab anything the current brings. As the water deepens, giant trevally, bluefin trevally, golden trevally, and barracudas show up, ready to eat. The water is almost always clear, but visibility can be a challenge with wind, surf, and sun. I’ve caught fish at all cycles of the tide, with the best fishing always coming on the spring tides, but a few surprising days came on neaps with fish staying on the flat longer.

Surfside fish were often fond of chartreuse and orange flies. A white-over-chartreuse Clouser Minnow was always a good bet. I generally fished with my own pattern I call a Jalopy, essentially a heavily dressed Gotcha with rubber legs, dubbed body, and fox squirrel wing. For the bigger predators, GTs and ’cudas, I carried a 10- or 12-weight rod rigged with a 6/0 Deceiver or a popper. I devised a way to rig my pack to get it into action quick. I could drop the bonefish rod, grab the big rod, and hook up in as fast as 17 seconds. A quick draw was critical for every big fish I caught on the flats.

The inside flats are soft white sand, which often become quite murky when wind stirs up the lagoon. Half the year they are only fishable on the calmest of days because the wind blows from the southeast March through November. It changes 180 degrees for the rest of the year, but blows nearly every day with an average of 13 knots, growing worse in the afternoon. The transition in March and November brings a few days of calm during which magical conditions appear. On calm days with sun you can see the bonefish well beyond casting range. When it’s silted up, I sometimes made casts to nothing more than a ripple. These fish rarely tail, though on a few calm mornings a found groups flagging their presence. The rest of the time, it took a lot of patience and time to learn what to look for.

On the inside sand flats I found the bones preferred very pale flies, which matched the white crabs and gobies I saw in the sand. Again it was a Jalopy tied on a 60-degree hook using white dubbing and pale coyote or badger for the wing with clear or white legs. I usually fished a size 6 fly, but if they were picky I dropped to a size 8, which seemed to work on tight- lipped fish.

It was on a beautiful November day with the calm of seasonal transition that I had one of my most memorable moments. I was doing quite well catching bones, several in the two-foot range, when I spotted a large fish coming at me. Often they turn out to be milkfish, but this was not. I dropped my 8-weight, grabbed the 10-weight with a popper on it, and got off a cast. The fish exploded on the fly and I was connected to a large and powerful giant trevally. The reel was screaming in protest as I made sure the drag was tight, but line was vanishing off the spool at an astonishing rate. I was fishing by myself and wondered how I would land the beast. After seeing more backing out of the guides than ever before in my life, I worked the fish back to me and finally wrapped my hand around its caudal. True to form, he quit fighting and just hung out while I grabbed my camera, and captured the moment. I have caught many big fish, but none more satisfying than that particular GT.

The question I am most asked about exploring this off-limits paradise—besides what was the biggest fish?—is what species. I kept a very detailed log. I caught more than 3,000 fish on flies and tallied dozens of different species. The premier gamefish were from the trevally family—giant, golden, and bluefin. Bonefish were common, Indo-Pacific permit always possible, yellowmargin triggerfish, barracuda, and emperor fish were also frequent targets depending on the tide and location. On three different occasions I managed to catch a bonefish, GT, permit, and barracuda in the same day—sort of a Diego Garcia super grand slam. One time I did all that in a span of about 45 minutes.

I also caught bright blue surge wrasse, Picasso triggerfish, unicornfish, fringe-lipped mullet (they eat bonefish flies), peacock grouper, lyretail grouper, brown spot grouper, darts (pompano), queenfish, threadfin, and goatfish. I only logged a few days without catching a single fish.

I caught big fish with enough consistency to keep me hunting. I recorded 11 bonefish over 27 inches, including one that was over 30. My intent is not to brag, but every fisherman wants to know the statistics. These measurements are estimates based on my rod markings. Most of the big ones evaded the camera, but not all.

I am no stranger to getting to ply the waters in far-off places, usually well off the beaten path. The Navy has afforded me opportunities to fish on six continents, where I have caught thousands of fish of many species. On par with Diego Garcia for being unique was fly fishing in Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom. Another unusual situation was fishing for queenfish in Bahrain and Dubai. Some places I have been that will be more familiar with readers are Alaska, Hawaii, Seychelles, and of course all around the U.S. where I have been able to fish in 15 states. No matter where I am stationed, I try to share my passion with any service member interested in fly fishing. It’s one thing I can do to pay forward my good fortune.

I did not join the Navy to support my fly-fishing passion, but it can work out at times. There are also times when I’ve had to turn down amazing trips because I am on assignment in some far-flung corner of the globe. There are downsides, obviously. I do not dwell on those times, but rather on the positive by exploiting opportunities I can take. That is why there is always a fly rod in my sea bag.

---

Captain Joel Stewart, a native of Great Falls, Montana, enlisted in 1985 as a Fire Controlman.  He advanced to the rate of FC1 before being selected for the Enlisted Commissioning Program. He graduated from the University of New Mexico and was commissioned in 1996. He is a Naval War College Command and Staff College distinguished graduate and Halsey Scholar. He is also a U.S. Army War College graduate. His staff tours include Transient Personnel Unit San Diego, Navy Warfare Development, Surface and Mine Warfighting Development Center (Startup N6); Officer-in-Charge of Navy Region Det Bahrain, and Expeditionary Strike Group THREE. His operational tours include duty aboard eight ships: USS Hewitt (DD 966), USS Fife (DD 991), USS Chancellorsville (CG 62), USS Mahon (DDG 72), USS Normandy (CG 60), USS Bainbridge (DDG 96), USS Makin Island (LHD 8); and Executive Officer for PCU Anchorage. He commanded USS Anchorage (LPD 23) and Maritime Prepositioning Ships Squadron Two. Ashore he was Commander Task Force Shore Battle Space in FIFTH Fleet. He currently commands Naval Beach Group ONE in San Diego.